Book o' Challenges
by Soil Ramen
Summary: PLEASE DON'T READ THE FIRST CHALLENGE, HAHA I'M SO EMBARRASSED, IT'S REALLY HORRID. The formatting is confusing, and it's super rushed. Anyway, this is a collection of one-shots and challenges, usually followed by a provided prompt from the TreeClan, LakeClan, FieldClan, CaveClan RP forum.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi, it's Holly. This is my book of challenges which are mostly going to be from the TreeClan, LakeClan, CaveClan RP forum. So, this is the first writing challenge that I've participated in, and I'm bad at prompts. I hope this turned out alright.**

 **"Brutal Sound"**

The roar of the black, churning water sounded distant, and Whitespark's jaws were stretched agape in a horrified yowl. He outstretched a foreleg over the edge.

"Mistyheart!" the lithe pale grey tom screeched as a small tabby she-cat reached up. Their paws barely touched, before she plunged straight into the water. Out of sight. Whitespark trembled as he collapsed at the ledge, staring straight into the deep gorge. His white paws were stained by the wet gravel beneath him.

"Mistyheart," he repeated weakly, green eyes glazed over. Rain began to pour down, blurring his vision.

"Whitespark!" a small tabby she-cat bounded towards the pale grey-and-white tom, "Whitespark, guess what!"

He blinked, before a purr erupted in his throat, "hmm?" It had been moons since he'd seen his mate out of the nursery for more than a meal.

"Tansyleaf said she'd watch Pebblekit so I could go out," the queen grinned, before huffing, "I wish she'd have offered sooner..." Whitespark gently nudged the tabby.

"Just be glad she's watching the little monster," he joked, which earned him a light cuffing on the ear.

"He's an angel," she argued before changing the subject, "c'mon, let's go for a walk!" She scurried towards the camp entrance, where the guard sat with a stony expression.

"Mistyheart," the guard greeted with a concerned voice, "you're going out? You should really be careful." The she-cat rolled her eyes playfully.

"Relax, Tigerstorm, I have Whitespark here to protect me, right?" the said tom flinched a bit as his mate's brother shot him a glare.

"Mm," Whitespark grunted, nodding in agreement. Tigerstorm was never fond of him.

"Let's go!" Before anybody could say another word she bolted out of the camp like an apprentice on her first outing. Whitespark raced after her. They stopped at a large puddle. Mistyheart crouched down, bunched up her muscles, and leaped. Her jump was short, and she splashed directly into the puddle, soaking herself in muddy water.

"What are you, a kit?" Whitespark bent down to pull her out, but she wrapped her forearms around his neck and dragged him in.

"No, but I've spent three moons straight with one. Live a little, Whitespark!" She got out and shook herself. He followed reluctantly, noticing the reddish brown water had caused a discolouration in his fur.

"I always wondered how you could stand to get so dirty," he muttered, and she grinned, leaping in another direction.

"I want to see the gorge. It's been forever!" Storm clouds began to gather in the sky, rolling in quickly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he called back, but she ignored him. They reached the gorge, and it was just as intimidating as usual. He shuddered, imagining falling in a plunging into the icy water.

"We shouldn't be here, it's going to storm," he gestured to the darkening sky, but the small tabby was already at the edge, peering over it. "Mistyheart! Get back," he chastised, tensing. He marched over and pulled her away.

"Whitespark," the she-cat's amber eyes glistened softly, "I promise I'll be safe. You won't get rid of me that easily," she joked.

"I still don't want you so close to the edge, it could be unstable," he warned, licking her between the ears.

"Alright," she agreed, padding back closer to the ledge, but not so dangerously. Whitespark was going to request that they just return to camp.

A loud crack was heard, and a the noise of thunder smashing throughout the forest resonated.

"Mistyheart," Whitespark hissed, but the tabby she-cat jumped, startled. Losing her balance, she slid almost over the edge, and he held on by her forelegs gripping it. Whitespark stepped forward, but as he did so, the ground beneath them began to shake, and the ledge she clung onto shattered.

"No! Whitespark!" The tabby's amber eyes were wide with fear as she scrabbled against the chunk of stone that was dragging her down.

Whitespark blinked his eyes open to see blurry figures standing over him. His joints ached furiously, and he forced back a groan.

"Hey," a familiar growl rang in his ears; Tigerstorm, "Whitespark!" The pale grey-and-white tom stood uneasily, cringing at the pain.

No words formed on his tongue. He saw rage in the large striped tom's face.

"Where is she? You said you'd keep her safe," the anger dissipated, converting into agonised grief. The other cats, Whitespark's apprentice Amberpaw and another Clanmate Softwhisker looked angry.

"How could you let this happen?" Softwhisker spat, "she was your mate!" Whitespark hung his head, numb.

"He probably pushed her in," Amberpaw hissed, and he swung his head to glare at her.

"You think I'd kill Mistyheart?" He snarled, stumbling forward.

"From the way you always talked to her I wouldn't be surprised." Softwhisker had been Mistyheart's best friend. She never liked Whitespark either. Nobody ever did, only Mistyheart.

"I didn't," he mumbled, turning away to hide his voice breaking, "I loved her."

"We're going back to camp, and you're telling Quickstar what happened," Tigerstorm stammered, although only half of him was really there. Whitespark was shoved around on the way back, like he was an intruder caught by an enemy Clan.

When they reached the camp, everybody was in panic, and the small search patrol nearly collided with a new one being sent out.

"Oh, thank StarClan you're here!"

"Where's Mistyheart?"

"What happened?"

"Where were you?"

A multitude of voices came with an equal amount of questions. Whitespark tiredly glanced around, void of emotion. Tansyleaf inched towards him, her head down with anxiety in her eyes.

Her mouth formed words he couldn't hear.

Sometimes silence can be violent. But sound is what's truly brutal.

He blinked.

"What?"

"Pebblekit was stolen!" The tortoiseshell queen yowled, "it's all my fault!" Pebblekit. Wasn't that the name of Whitespark's son?

"Stolen," he repeated quietly, "who stole him? Where is Pebblekit?" His voice slowly got louder.

"We think an FieldClan warrior snuck in..." Tansyleaf shook her head, trailing off, "I'm so sorry, Whitespark."

"Whitespark, tell me what happened with Mistyheart," Quickstar, a tall black she-cat with blue eyes pressed gently.

"I have to find Pebblekit," he stepped back, turning around to go out of camp.

"No, we have a patrol sent out. He'll be returned shortly," the leader meowed sternly, standing in front of him.

"He's my son!" Whitespark, despite being rather small, shoved the leader out of the way and sprinted out. He panted as he reached the FieldClan border. His Clanmates were waiting on their own territory.

"What are you doing?" He hissed, "there's no time to sit here and wait for those filthy pieces of crowfood to come."

"Go back to camp, Whitespark, we've got this."

"No, you don't. You're sitting here while my kit in danger!" Without another word he ran over the border. This was a nightmare, it was all a dream. His family was back at camp, resting peacefully.

Reality pierced him through the stomach, and he stopped short. His mate was dead, and his son was kidnapped. This was real. All of it.

He closed his eyes briefly, catching his breath. With his heart thumping, he wrenched his eyes open and charged on.


	2. Erstwhile Devotion

**A/N: hello, it is me, once again. i am back. to have written this garbage. i kind of like it right now, mostly because one of my close friends has flattered me to oblivion about it (bless her im so happy). also creds to her for the name! i love ittt! i hope it's okay! also ignore the first challenge i did on here, it was so nasty and aagh**

Aspentail shook his fluffy black pelt, yawning into a deep stretch. It was a bright morning; songbirds were chirping, the sky was clear, the sun was gleaming. However, he just couldn't bring himself to _get happy_. He had laid in his nest for what felt like moons, and only now, with achy bones, had he decided to rise. The only reason he'd even bothered was because his mentor, Owlstorm, seemed to be out of camp, and an apprentice came complaining to him about a thorn in her pad. He treated her, and without even an expression of gratitude, she bolted off.

He considered just going back to sleep. Not that he was drowsy, really. The night before, he'd not a restful sleep; for some reason, he had a sore set of thoughts bothering him and disturbing his slumber. He hadn't slept much of a wink. Yet, it was a beautiful day. The world moved on without him, it seemed. He wondered if it would be any different if he just… disappeared.

The medicine cat apprentice shook the thought off, choosing to sit at the mouth of his shared den and stare out with blank green eyes. He wasn't usually well-liked within the Clan, for his eyes. He had a mean-looking set of dull, watered down forest green eyes, and when he looked at his reflection, they glared back. He had a resting face of I'm-judging-you. He hated it, but it couldn't be helped.

Owlstorm was the one everyone loved. He couldn't blame them, though, for he loved her twice as much. As a sister, of course. Aspentail may have been a weak-willed, angry-faced tom, but he was no code breaker. Besides, the dusty brown tabby medicine cat was twice his age. He shuddered at the idea of a relationship with her. He didn't even swing that way.

So, yes, Aspentail loved his mentor, just as everyone else. She was beautiful and kind, compassionate and cheerful, with a strong head on her shoulders. He remembered as a kit, she was the one all his friends had their first crushes on, only to be disappointed in learning that she wasn't allowed to take on a mate. He couldn't help but envy her, a little bit. Nobody _wanted_ him. In general, nobody wanted him to be around them, if they could do anything about it.

They all wanted Owlstorm. And he was okay with that, but it hurt to see their blatant favouritism. She followed the rules _and_ had a pretty personality. It was all he wanted for himself, and she had it. But he loved her anyway, and he had to learn how to be okay with that, too. She was his best friend, despite everything.

She was the one who taught him how to _live_. His parents dunked him on her, when he was smaller. She was gentle, and he liked it, so he stuck with her, as a kit. He didn't want to be a medicine cat. But when his parents saw him taking an interest in _something_ , they let the medicine cat (apprentice, at the time) raise him. They hadn't wanted him, either, though he wasn't sure why not. She raised him, and he thought, when her mentor passed, that he owed it to her to at least keep her company. That's why he decided to study medicine.

For a little while, he enjoyed it. Then again, for that little while, he enjoyed _life._ However, after the first few moons of training, he grew tired of it. Not of the material he was learning- oh, ForestClan knew there would always be some new herb to learn of- but of… well, everything. The routine he'd run for half of his life became old, and he didn't know how to change it. He learned why his parents left him, but that was only after they died in some freak accident involving weather phenomena.

After a little while, he resented it. Waking up to the same thing every morning made him bitter. Waking up to complaints and insults and criticism by cats who had no idea how to do his job turned him sour. Waking up to work his tail off, to be greeted by sneers and no "thank you" made him want to _quit_. Whether he wanted to quit his job, or to quit life, he wasn't sure.

Right now, he really wanted to quit. He thought about Owlstorm. Would she miss him if he left? Would she be sad? Nobody else would be, he was sure. She was the strongest cat in the whole Clan; if he fell off the face of the earth, she could care, and still bounce back in an instant. He shook his head. He hated to drown himself in his own self-pity. He was wallowing. He didn't wallow, sulk, or pout. It wasn't in his nature. He brooded.

"Lovely morning, Aspentail," he jerked from his thoughts at the sound of his name. "You don't look well," the voice who was speaking to him was sweet and calm. It was Owlstorm. No, he supposed, he didn't look well. She, on the other hand, was rainbows and sunshine and butterflies; glowing with a plethora of positivity and emotion. She was gorgeous.

"Morning," he addressed her with a small nod, his voice hoarse and gritty in contrast to her smooth, melodic one. He chose not to say anything else. She smelled vaguely of LakeClan, and her pelt was damp, though he saw that she was setting sweet sedge and dock into their respective piles, and thought nothing of it.

"We looked a little low on supplies," she explained, needlessly. He wasn't dull or blind; he could infer, and he could see! He gave a tiny huff, and forced his temper down. His mentor did nothing to deserve his ill nature. He deserved to suffer through it and deal with himself.

"You're sulking," Owlstorm chimed, round amber eyes glittering with mirth. He fluffed up his already thick pelt, letting out a mock growl of irritation.

"I don't sulk." It was their running gag.

"But you are." He was tired of it.

She purred, and he stalked off after a forced chuckle. He made his way toward the prey pile, but he wasn't hungry. It was all just so frustrating. He didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to yowl like he'd gone mad, to tear things apart, to feel _better_. He hated hating his life for no reason.

Aspentail ended up going for a walk. He collected moss for new bedding in the elders' den. Then he went back to camp, deposited the moss, received no thanks, and went back to his nest, curling up and wishing the rest of the day away. He finally allowed himself a moment's rest, drifting into a dark, dreamless oblivion.

He woke shortly after, with a strong sense of déjà vu nagging at him. An apprentice- Lightpaw, or something- was shaking his shoulder, whining of "like _three_ thorns" in the pad of his front paw. Owlstorm was missing again.

"Aren't you going to be a warrior soon?" Aspentail mused gruffly, ears folded back in irritation. Lightpaw puffed his chest out in affirmation, simultaneously shifting just enough for the medicine cat apprentice to miss the thorn he'd been about to pluck out. He tried again, and this time, was able to get it. The apprentice yelped.

"Gentle," Lightpaw chastised with a grimace, and Aspentail wanted to claw him. He shrugged, repressing the feeling and mumbling an apology. "It's okay! I guess there wasn't really a _right_ way to do it, anyway. Thanks." The long-furred tom was stunned, blinking his stone-cold green eyes in surprise. It had been a while since someone other than his mentor had been that nice to him. He wasn't as pleased as he thought he'd been.

He felt even more unappreciated, to have been shocked when one whiny apprentice decided to drop a quick "thanks" for him pulling a thorn out of his paw. He felt anger and sadness at the same time, and he immediately went back to his nest, letting his bad thoughts stew. By now, they were probably overcooked.

He sighed. He just needed to make it to the end of the day, then he could talk to Owlstorm and everything would be better.

It didn't happen like that.

Owlstorm returned very late that night. He hadn't fallen asleep yet; at first, he was just waiting for her, then he couldn't go to sleep at all. It looked like he missed his mark. She scolded him for being awake, as if he was just a little kitten, and was snoring softly in seconds flat. She even snored cutely. He glowered.

Every night and every day after that, for two moons, was exactly the same. Owlstorm was constantly absent, with a new excuse every time. Most of the time, it had to do with herbs, but sometimes, she said it was practice for Aspentail, in case anything ever happened to her. Her fur seemed to be constantly wet, and she acquired a perpetual scent of LakeClan. He noticed that their stock of herbs that could be found in LakeClan territory fluctuated.

Some days it was full, other days it was empty, and his mentor was quick to refill their bundle. He knew he was supposed to be suspicious, but this was the she-cat who raised him. She was the she-cat that everyone worshipped, and to think even a single word to sully her good name was like the work of treason. He trusted her.

Knowing Owlstorm, she was probably sneaking off every day to tend to orphan kittens left by the LakeClan border.

It was a dreary night; the sky was clouded over, and rain-scent stained the air, drifting into the fog that lay thick on the ground. The full moon glowed dimly behind the clouds and vapour-filled atmosphere. If anyone asked Aspentail, he would have said it was a bad omen. The Clan asked Owlstorm, though, and with a slightly furrowed brow, she said, "oh, we'll be fine!"

Perhaps it was her seniority over him in ranking, or maybe it was his theory of how she was the closest thing to a goddess the Clans would ever come in contact with, that made his opinion matter so little to everyone else. He couldn't care less, though. He never had anything good to contribute with, anyway.

They arrived at the Four Stones, and despite being late by routine, they were the first to arrive. Immediately, he felt smug. He'd been right. If only they'd _asked_ for his opinion. Then, his smugness was quelled, because LakeClan arrived.

Owlstorm shared words with Smokestar, LakeClan's leader, and before long, she had her hackles raised, and he was lashing his tail. He turned on his heel and marched off to join the other leaders. The TreeClan medicine cat smoothed her ruffled pelt, letting out several calming breaths. Aspentail frowned. What had Smokestar said to upset her so much?

Soon, FieldClan and CaveClan filed in, both parties looking rather hesitant and staring up at the pale-with-clouds sky. Aspentail sighed, when the bubbly she-cat who'd recently been apprenticed to CaveClan's medicine cat, bounded up to him. Starlingpaw was nice enough, but he couldn't help himself. He was jealous of her. She was happy, had friends, and a Clan to come home to who truly loved her. She was Owlstorm, but with less work and more dazzle.

"Aspentail!" Starlingpaw screeched, and he flinched at both hearing his name (only Owlstorm used it consistently) and the noise. He grunted, and she giggled in turn. Owlstorm was quiet for the rest of the gathering. Smokestar seemed disconcerted when he reported that LakeClan was faring well.

They were all bone-thin with sunken eyes and voices akin to the crumbling aftermath of a forest fire. Clearly, they were not, and their leader didn't even seem to notice, much less acknowledge it.

By the end of the night, Aspentail felt sick to his stomach. None of the Clans were doing well, but of all four, TreeClan had it best. And still, he felt like crap. Still, he cried, "woe is me!" as if the world centred around him. He knew it did not. He wanted to knock some sense into Smokestar for seemingly neglecting his Clan, he wanted to tell Starlingpaw that she had bees in her brain for being so cheery. Most of all, he wanted to tell Owlstorm that maybe if she was more of a support system than a storm of work and stress, he'd feel better.

He did none of those things. Keeping silent was the only thing he could do right. The gathering was over, and all he wanted was to leave. He didn't want to go home, though. He felt the inexplicable urge to run away, which was quashed instantly, when Owlstorm pulled him to the back of the crowd, eyes anxious.

"Aspentail," she whispered, with fervour, "meet me at the Twisted Oaks after we get back to camp. I have something important to discuss with you." _Yeah? Well, I have a bone to pick with you, and that's pretty important, too._ He nodded.

The trek to TreeClan territory felt long and arduous, but he was curious as to what his mentor wanted to talk to him about. Between the night clearing considerably, and the moon shining through to give a silver laminate across the land, he felt pretty disappointed with how the night turned out. He couldn't even bring himself to be excited for spending some time with Owlstorm, for the first time in moons.

He thought for a second, that maybe she just wanted to catch up with him, and it was a nice thought, before he stamped it down like a noisy cricket. That would have been just too good to be true. He made it to the Twisted Oaks, and she was waiting, shuffling her paws in an almost anxious manner.

"What is it," he hissed, and she jumped, before laughing nervously.

"You scared me!" She grinned, sitting down and curling a long, thin tail around her delicate white paws. He didn't join her in taking a seat, only flattening his ears and twitching his whiskers in irritation.

"What is it?" He repeated. She sighed, letting her resolve break; her shoulders slumped, and suddenly, she looked worn. Still beautiful, but closer to a slightly muddied lake than a pristine brook.

"Aspentail, please don't be mad at me." He paused, and she smiled sadly at him, amber eyes dull. He wanted to say, _I'm not_ , but he couldn't form words. Her gaze pulled him toward speechlessness. "I'm sure you've already figured it out. You always were incredibly smart, you know. We don't give you enough credit."

"What are you talking about?" He managed to choke out, suddenly feeling a bout of confusion and fear tear through him. His eyes stung at the compliment, but he blinked the developing tears away rapidly.

"Aspentail, I'm pregnant." It all collapsed in that moment. Everything made sense now, and the pain was fiercer than the feel of a badger's jaws closing around his head, piercing the skull. He'd never felt more winded. It all made sense. She was never around. She was always too happy to be out of love, and too beautiful to stay out of love, in the first place. The herbs, her fur, her scent, everything. He staggered back. "Please, don't be angry. I-I need your help. I need you to-"

"Don't be angry?" He echoed, unaware that his voice was even working. "Don't be angry," he repeated, as if tasting the words for the first time. He scoffed. "Don't be angry! Of course I'm not angry. I'm _livid_. How could you ask me to not be angry? What did you expect? _Oh, of course, Owlstorm, of course I'll forgive you for screwing over my life! I could never be angry with you!_ No, I'm not putting up with this anymore." He arched his back, bristling so he'd look twice his size. He would never admit, but he was scrawny, even smaller than most she-cats in the Clan. Owlstorm jerked away from him.

"I-I know you, you aren't gonna stay mad," she tried, her tone gentle, and only spurring him on further.

"Owlstorm, I don't know what to say. I'm _always_ mad. You think you know me? You don't know a thing about me! Tell me, why did I become your apprentice?" She betrayed the Clan that loved her, betrayed him, betrayed herself. She really, truly messed up, and he was done picking up after her. She may have raised him, but she did not _know_ him.

"Y-you wanted to help the Clan." The she-cat replied steadily, despite her stammer. All of a sudden, she didn't look as gorgeous as he remembered. She looked washed out and old, and tired. Everything he had thought she wasn't. Not anymore. He hated her. He utterly hated her in that moment, and never again would he believe it when he said he loved her.

"I wanted to help _you_." He whispered, voice trembling. "I-I wanted to help you, and you know what you did? You've committed a crime that you can't possibly cover up, and I know to the mountains and back you can't possibly expect _me_ to. I am done _helping_ you, Owlstorm. I can't do this anymore. Do you know how hard it is to wake up every morning to an unwelcoming Clan? No, you don't! I don't have a home, and you just raked yours through the mud!"

"No, Aspentail, you don't understand-"

"I don't _need_ to understand, Owlstorm! You broke the law. You broke the law you swore to protect. You have never been there for me when I needed you most. You never will be. I'm done. I'm telling Brindlestar, and you're stepping down. I'm done with this fox-dung."

He left her in the clearing by the four intertwined oaks, for once in his life, feeling as if his eyes were bright with an emotion other than disinterest. They were ablaze with fury and hurt and disgust and hatred. Then, in only a moment, he was collapsed onto the ground outside of camp, gasping for air as sobs wracked over him, and he curled into himself. She broke the code. She broke him.

Aspentail meant what he'd said. He was done.

 **A/N: i hope anyone who read it thought it was okay.**

 **-holly**


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